Phantom Prompted Oneshots
by The Duelist's Heiress
Summary: Similar to the other set of oneshots I have, these oneshots are based off prompts from an LJ community. Sixth oneshot is one in the spirit of the season.
1. A New Year

**D.H. A.N.: **This is the first in my series of Phantom Related Prompted One shots. These prompts are from the Live journal community **30 Nights. **This one uses the prompt **"Paint the night with the stars." **I hope you enjoy **A New Year.**

**AN2: **This story takes place between the AIAOY scene and it's right before the masquerade. As there was no proposal scene, and all we see is Christine with the ring at the Masquerade, I wrote this proposal scene. It's short and sweet.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own **POTO. **

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A New Year

The sound of joyous celebration of a new year decorated the Parisian sky, showering a patron and chorus girl with blessings of hope.

The fireworks exploded in a splendor-filled finale, leaving the two on the roof to gaze at the stars. Raoul deChangy held Christine Daae softly smiling all the while.

"Christine, I love you," he crooned softly. Then he broke out somewhat joyously, "I've ordered my fine horses; they're waiting at the door... And I want you; I'll hold you and I'll hide you." He stopped, fumbling through his shirt, soon producing a small black box.

"Christine… Christine…If I could paint the night with these lonely and beautiful stars, I'd paint a picture of who you truly are. There is nothing I would rather do more than be able to prove what I feel for you."

Raoul opened the box, revealing an engagement ring, and whispered, "Christine, will you marry me?"

Christine did not hesitate. She felt a tearful yes cross her lips. They then kissed, Raoul spinning her twice as he had done on the roof months before. Somewhere there were stars just for them.

The two then went to the masquerade below.

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**DH: **Well, that's it. I do not approve of Raoul bashing it is immature. Please review. Be on the look out for a sequel to **Phantom Phases **too.


	2. Where The True Distortion Lies

**DH AN: **I am back with another oneshot in my Phantom series. This one uses the prompt "**Darkness in My Heart."** I hope you enjoy **Where The True Distortion Lies.**

**AN 2: POV:** Erik 1st Person

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**Where The True Distortion Lies**

I gave her a choice; she gave me human love that I had never known before. I saw that she was never mine to begin with. When she returned the ring, I felt saddened, somewhat betrayed beyond measure… and yet, I felt great closure that she had found someone who would be able to lead her past her fears.

Before the vicomte showed up, she had said something somewhat very disturbing to me; that my face was not the true horror, but that my soul was the bearer of the true distortion. I had began to give sincere thought to the statement , but when that vicomte showed up, I forgot about those words, to put it lightly. Now, I ponder them as I walk through the secret passageway behind the mirrors now shattered.

In truth there was darkness all around me; it was no surprise that it seeped its way into my mental and emotional tendencies as well. Only after burning my artistic domain, do I see that rage and revenge had consumed me as much as fire had consumed **Don Juan Triumphant**. Blast it! All those months, perhaps even years of work, only to be charred in a matter of minutes, and for what?

I dropped to my hands and knees, realizing that I alone was responsible for my madness. Not Christine nor the vicomte could be assailed with the full blame; if anything they were only human catalysts in this undesirable reaction. The pieces were in my own hands, hands that I composed with and murdered with as well.

I saw morning light wafting through the darkness only by a miracle of fate and nature. There was still hope for me, perhaps not in love, but there was indeed light within the darkness.

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**DH: **I hope I did okay. Please tell me what you think.


	3. Eyes in the Storm

**DH AN:** Here is another** Phantom Prompted Oneshot, **the prompt being "Hear The Thunder Roar and the Lightning Crash"**.** Giselle and Sybille de Chagny aren't mine; they belong to **Crystal Rose of Pollux.** She has been kind enough to let me use them. Please Review.

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**Eyes in the Storm**

Thunder rolled outside the de Chagny estate, ominously foreshadowing an approaching storm. Raoul de Chagny called out with a soft urgency to his two daughters to get out of the soon to be rain-soaked garden. As usual, he had to call them twice; and the second time was always slightly more stern than the first.

"Giselle and Sybille de Chagny come in the house before you get soaked!"

"Oh Raoul let them have their fun in the rain; remember that you and I did the same thing when we were young." Christine de Chagny hummed softly in his ear.

Raoul forced a gentle grin. "Part of it may have been fun, but I thought Philippe was never going to let me see you after that." Christine only smiled as she saw their two girls running, amusing themselves as they dodged the light raindrops.

Raoul unconsciously rubbed his left shoulder where there was a slight scar from a swordfight many years ago. His thoughts turned to the one who had wounded him those years ago, this "madman" who proved an excellent combatant, an irreplaceable ally, and yet again as an artist in the form of a recent anniversary gift. The viscount inwardly found himself hoping that the Phantom, as odd as he was, was safe from the approaching storm. Raoul often wondered if the masked musician even had a family; but knew that it was highly unlikely, as The Phantom seemed to be content with the arts alone as his muses and comforters. But that never stopped the viscount from wondering.

Thunder rolled above the catacombs of the Opera Populaire, foreshadowing an ominous storm. Candles provided a faint glow by which the masked musician could view his domain. "Storms," he muttered with slight distaste "Why do I like and loathe them so much?"

After reflecting on it the interesting mystery soon resolved itself as the musician pondered. The storms were a mirroring of his own life. He was tossed through the storm people have the audacity to call life, and was driven to madness by it. Yet there was one thing a storm brought that the Phantom found peace in: The calm after the storm. He had two people to credit with bringing calm to his life.

His thoughts first went to the viscount who had not only spared his life in the cemetery but saved it in Egypt as well. Though the viscount still held some animosity towards him, The Phantom took it with a grain of salt; he would react the same way if his life was threatened four times by the same man.

His thoughts then turned to the angel who helped him accept his solitude, and he couldn't help but smile at how she considered him to be repented, as well as how happy she was with her love of a lifetime.

He sighed softly hoping that the two destined lovers were safe and out of the storm.

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**DH: **A lot of this came from** Crystal Rose of Pollux's** fan fictions,** Beneath the Valley, Whispers of the Forest Elves, and possibly The Jackal Howls At Midnight. **Please read those stories if you have any questions, and review. The idea of Raoul's scar was mine.


	4. Broken Glass Broken Man

**DH AN:** Well after a year I have a Phantom of the Opera shot to post, the prompt being "Who's reflected in the broken glass" and just screaming Erik!!! Please enjoy **Broken Glass; Broken Man**

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**Broken Glass; Broken Man**

My life has been nothing except the shattering of mirrors, trying to deny what reflections I see throughout those phases. Each phase has brought me to another mirror that is only waiting to be shattered.

As I look upon the shattered glass beneath my feet. I see several shards that once again choose to reveal themselves now. My reputation as the "Angel of death" in Persia, Opera Ghost of the Palais Garnier, and of course; madman, genius, and death's head never skip an opportunity to show themselves. But the most painful, and by far the largest, shard glares at me with the most beautiful lie; one that, after realizing the gravity of what I did, possessed by lust…how I used that lie…that appalled me most.

An Angel of Music. A lie, and yet it is not. Music will always be a muse of mine; my greatest consoler as well as my greatest addiction…one has to admit that there are far worse things to be addicted to. While I was masquerading as the Angel to the beautifully naïve Christine Daaé, I was nothing like an angel. This is not to say that I regret all that I have done.

Who I see in that one shard of glass has changed throughout the years. My tasks did not cease when my earthly life was finished. I was needed still. There are those who, while not ready for any sort of afterlife described in many religions and philosophies, still find some form of duty after their earthly life is completed and all their days are lived out. Mine just happens to be matchmaker and guardian angel for a certain family; one individual of the second generation since my appointment has had me working quite a bit of over time…stupid boy.

He reminds me of myself in a way that I cannot quite pinpoint. Perhaps it is because he shall relish in his wayward behaviors, only to realize too late that he is only shattering the bonds he has with those who care about him more than he will ever realize, or care to admit while on this path of revenge…though, he should be looking at himself rather than at another. I can see him in my own reflection, and that does bother me. Not because I am selfish, and would rather let this foolish boy alone with his erroneous errand…but because I know that he shall possess inconsolable grief over the damage he will have caused. But alas, there is nothing I can do to stop him…I am only to interfere if there is no other alternative.

But while I have this duty, I am continuing to learn how I can change who I see in that reflection, how I could have changed myself, and how I can aid people just by being a pair of eyes and an unseen voice…which has always been my specialty.

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**DH: **Well my Phantom is a tad rusty, but I finally got a POTO plunny after about a year. Thank goodness. PS: For those of you who read stories in my other genre, do not be afraid to tell me that the boy of whom The Phantom speaks is way too easy to identify.


	5. Mask

**Mask**

Mask…it is a word that has far too many uses. To hide, conceal, or overlay; even an object which hides a face so the world will never find it makes this word its own.

Despite the best attempts, this word still found me amidst my masquerade, removing the only shred of dignity I had left. What remains for me now? Nothing; save for a few shattered mirrors. Smashing them may have seemed an action of acceptance, but in reality it was merely a reinforcement of the loneliness that I had come to see as my only companion. I remember a small smile crossing my face at the melody of glass shards sprinkling the floor. It is the only mask, sanity, and solace I have now.

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**DH: **This was a drabble I did as part of a ten drabble challenge. Please review.


	6. Sounds of The Season

**DH AN: **I have a oneshot for the holiday season. I hope you enjoy **Sounds of The Season.

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**Sounds of The Season **

_Rejoice, rejoice, Emanuel shall come to thee, O Israel._

Erik had heard the simultaneously lamented and assuring tune for four weeks at least three times every Sunday, the notes floating through the air from a nearby, rather small, cathedral. It was somewhat irritating him. What bothered him was not the tone of the music, nor was it that a lifelong wish of his was to be able to go out on Sundays, but it was the rather poor a cappella with which the music expressed itself.

Granted that within the coming week, the patiently somber tune would be replaced with those that were more suited for festivities the winter season offered; Erik found himself as he had in the past few weeks, adding with his violin what he did not hear in the voices. No one would hear but he, the maestro. Running the bow across the strings, he granted the music a resonance laced with the assurance that was seldom heard within the piece.

Sure enough within the week, Erik heard the music floating from the small cathedral change.

_Angels we have heard on high; sweetly singing o'er the plains. /And the mountains in reply echoing their joyous strains. _

Erik seemed to need no second heeding as he put his bow to the strings in the familiar fluctuating notes of the _Gloria In Excelsis Deo_ that served as the refrain as the melody soared through the air, the notes of which resounded throughout the cavernous house on the lake. Although he had given up on most of the ideas of religion, music of any sort called to him, filling a void that nothing else could. Three more familiar tunes met his ears, _Adeste Fideles, The First Noel, _and the final piece, as par tradition, _Joy to the World. _ Each melody was played with great gusto that Erik was surprised by. He felt no connection to what was celebrated; if that were truly the case, how could his singing strings carry such emotion as they were in this very moment? He failed to understand exactly what about music tethered him regardless of season, purpose, or sentiment.

Music was his muse, his sanity; his breath…hell it was his _everything. _There was nothing that could replace its place as his greatest expression. Music was simultaneously his siren and savior; his rescue several times over. Music spoke to him as nothing else could. The music of this season somehow brought him solace that he had yet to find in any other composition; he found that not even melodies penned by his hand held the same effect.

The sounds of this season would continue for at least a week more, but Erik found that was something he could tolerate…rather he might enjoy it.

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**DH: **Merry Christmas. Please Review.


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